Chapter 759: Chapter 422: Power of the Dragon’s Remains (Part 2)

The walls of the pool were covered with marks of scratches and collisions, and the bottom was coated with a thick layer of dark residue that had long lost its fluidity.

Beside the blood pool, a few shredded researcher robes lay scattered around.

The remnants of runes on the fabric were blurred, and the edges had the appearance of being repeatedly pulled by claws.

Sacco paused at the edge of the blood pool, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the marks on the walls and the ground, his Adam’s apple visibly moving.

And as his eyes passed the blood pool, settling into the deeper shadows, the next instant his breath clearly hitched.

Beyond the blood pool, a gigantic skeleton lay sprawled on the ground.

Even from a distance, the oppressive sense of its mass instinctively made one halt their steps.

"This..." Sacco spoke subconsciously, unable to finish the sentence.

Weir followed his line of sight, and his pupils contracted sharply.

"You’ve got to be kidding..." he whispered, as if afraid of disturbing something, "This is... a dragon?"

The underground space remained silent, only the skeleton lying there.

It was the remains of an ancient dragon.

The bones were enormous and ancient, their surfaces full of deliberate cuts, holes, and implanted devices.

The spine was fixed in segments, the chest cavity had been forcibly opened to connect to some complex and cruel alchemical structure.

Even devoid of life, the skeleton still exuded an unsettling presence.

"There really is such a thing..." Weir muttered.

"They actually dared to..." Sacco’s words trailed off, realizing any words to describe the Remont Clan at this moment would be redundant.

Louis stood in place, looking at the skeleton, showing no emotional fluctuation.

To him, this was not the first time he knew of it.

In his mind, several records from the [Daily Intelligence] surfaced naturally.

About the Remont Clan’s longstanding dragon blood experiments.

About the purification of power regardless of the cost.

About those repeatedly sacrificed failed samples.

This information had long been confirmed by him through papers and words.

Now it merely had a physical form.

This was the source.

Also, it was Kael’s final card.

Louis’s gaze slowly moved between the skeleton and the dried blood pool, his expression almost indifferent.

There was no glory here.

Only an old path that had come to an end.

From this moment, the name of the Remont Clan would no longer be brought up as nobility.

It would only be written into footnotes as a failed experiment.

He took a few steps forward to see more clearly.

At the instant of approaching that ancient dragon skeleton, a familiar yet entirely different chill suddenly pierced Louis’s consciousness.

Not coming from the line of sight, but a direct oppression on the mental level.

Louis’s steps halted.

"... Here it comes again." The thought flashed through his heart.

This feeling, he was all too familiar with.

By Titus’s corpse, the crimson mist, the purple mist on the nest’s remains, Louis had felt the same warning.

It was a warning of crisis beyond the physical, coming from a deeper existence.

But the nature was entirely different from the previous two intrusions.

From the pale and huge bone crevices of the ancient dragon, slowly seeping out, was an almost transparent golden mist.

It wasn’t ostentatious, not even having any obvious aggressiveness.

Just silently dispersing there, overlooking itself.

A kind of condescending gaze, as if a god lowered its eyes, scrutinizing the dust beneath, attempting to make his soul instinctively bow, kneel, and admit its own insignificance.

The air in the underground space solidified along with it, a silent yet unavoidable command.

Louis’s vision dimmed slightly, and from deep within the sea of consciousness came a violent tremor.

The Primordial Meditation Technique ran at full speed in the same instant, the boundaries of consciousness rapidly closing, forcibly blocking the invading will.

However, the golden presence did not retreat.

It still hung there, naturally waiting for submission.

At this moment, the Primordial Heart responded.

In the center of the sea of consciousness, platinum starlight burst abruptly.

Like the slowly rotating core of a star, stable, calm, yet possessing absolute dominion.

The brilliance spread like a galaxy, re-stabilizing Louis’s consciousness.

Subsequently, two other subdued forces were simultaneously awakened.

The crimson mist surged at the edge of the platinum brilliance, transforming into a furious blood vine, emitting a deep and angry hum from the blood-colored tendrils.

The purple shadow converged in the light, condensing into insect silhouettes, densely packed, emitting an uncomfortable screech, as if wanting to devour everything.

Under the dominion of the Primordial Heart, they no longer conflicted with each other, like tamed hunting dogs, simultaneously locking onto the new target.

The crimson and purple both pounced, tearing at the golden aura attempting to become the master.

And the platinum starlight, like an invisible shackle, forcibly bound the three forces on the same track.

Louis’s consciousness suddenly sank, and fragments of memory poured into his mind once more.

In the pitch-black mine pit, torches flickered.

An old miner in tattered clothes swung a pickaxe, with a "clang" striking something hard.

He brushed away the dirt to reveal a section of pale dragon bone.

Just that one glance.

The old miner’s pupils instantly lost focus.

No scream, no struggle.

He seemed to be overwhelmed by some irresistible presence, freezing in place, then slowly kneeling, his heart ceasing to beat in an incredibly brief moment.

The scene before his eyes shattered and reassembled.

An ancient tomb long buried by time.

The dome collapsed, stone walls mottled, ancient runes vaguely visible in the dust, the air filled with deathly silence after the decay of ages.

The ancient dragon’s remains quietly rested in the center of the burial chamber, not yet dismembered, bones intact and majestic as if merely slumbering.

The burial chamber held only one figure.

A person clad in a mage’s robe.

The hood was low, the face obscured, the robe’s patterns ancient and unfamiliar, inconsistent with any known alchemical system.

He approached the remains alone, without hesitation or reverence.

The glow of magic arose, precise and calm.

The sternum was separated in an almost perfect manner.

The large heart, long ceased to beat yet still radiating brilliant golden light, was extracted intact.

It was sealed into a black gold box engraved with ancient seals.

Before the burial chamber returned to darkness completely, a deep and indistinct whisper echoed through time.

"The heart returns to the master, the bones and blood return to dust."

The final scene was an even older picture.

A dark, damp underground altar, surrounded by a circle of pale candles.

A young man knelt in front of the altar, holding a neatly severed human hand aloft, his lips moving soundlessly, reciting some sort of oath.

The illusion fractured abruptly, and Louis abruptly opened his eyes.

By now, the faint golden mist had been completely drawn into his body, suppressed in a corner of the sea of consciousness by the Primordial Heart, becoming the third force after crimson and purple.

But Louis clearly sensed that this force was incomplete, yet still strong enough.

In the depths of Louis’s pupils, a faint flash of gold flickered.

He could clearly feel a new passive pressure forming, a new ability brought by the golden mist, just by being looked at, lower-tiered wills would instinctively crumble.

"... My lord?" Weir’s voice was noticeably lowered, "Are you alright?"

Louis raised his hand, pressed his forehead, and then shook his head.

Unlike the previous three times, this was a brief daze, without fainting.

This gave him a slight confirmation deep down.

This is a fragmentary power, and its true main force is that heart that was excavated.

"I’m fine." His tone returned to its usual calm.

Louis looked again at the now entirely lusterless skeleton turned into ordinary bones, his gaze steady.

The Remont Clan thought they’d unearthed a treasure, but in reality, they just picked up someone else’s leftovers.

Although there was no evidence yet, Louis instinctively felt it might be related to the missing Emperor.

But Louis had no lead to follow, so he could only hope the Daily Intelligence System would come through efficiently.

Louis withdrew his gaze: "Seal this place temporarily and notify Merian to have his alchemy team come over as soon as possible."